Incest/Taboo Playing with Mom

Playing with Mom​

My parents were both a match and a mismatch. Dad was a senior executive and Mother stopped pursuing her own career once she married. Dad's career became their joint project and each of them focused their attention on reaching the top, which they did. Social networking was essential for my father's rise and my Mother was a crucial element in his success. In the last eight years they enjoyed being the arbitrator for other people's success, as others had previously decided their fates. My mother, especially, thrived on the attention of all the people under my father. She loved the dinners and parties, small and large, over which she presided. Despite her relative youth at twenty years my father's junior, she was the woman to please, and all the managers and their spouses knew it. They had to perform well on the job for Dad, and for Mom in the social milieu.

But then Dad retired. His career had been everything to him. Invitations disappeared with my father's vanishing influence, and Mother wilted in the social vacuum that followed. Father's health deteriorated quickly, and he withdrew into himself, eventually becoming housebound and confined to his room and office upstairs, moving between them in an electric wheelchair. Mother stayed home, not used to social interaction without the built-in respect for her position. My father shunned the titular directorships he was offered as a respected executive. He had always been a man of action and he preferred to simply fade away. But this closed the door for my Mother too, and their close relationship eroded further with each step away from the executive suite.

It was into this environment that I returned for summer at the end of my last year of college. I had grown up in private schools away from home, and had been sent away for summer activities as well. Since I was small, I had really only spent weekly breaks, Christmas, and a few weeks in the summer at home. And when I was there, my parents were usually distracted with work-related issues or events. In the summers at college, I hadn't even gone home, spending the time traveling instead. I barely knew my parents, or they me.

By the time I came home, Mother was depressed. She and father rarely spoke, or interacted at all. Each stayed primarily on their own floor of the house, except at bedtime when my mother retired to her own room upstairs. But Mother retained the elegant beauty that had steadily helped my father up the ladder. She may have been a little faded compared to the vibrant exuberance of her thirties, but she retained her figure and was still a pretty woman.

However, a depressive atmosphere enveloped the house and my mother's dress matched it, a remarkable change if you had known her. Gone were the figure enhancing gowns and chic dresses. Mom -- odd, but I had always thought of her as Mother, until I saw her in such a vulnerable state -- often shuffled about the house in a bathrobe, a simple housedress, or even, god forbid, sweatshirt and sweatpants. Never having felt close, in fact many times hating my self-absorbed parents, it was strange to feel my heart go out to this lonely, lost woman.

Perhaps this is why I started paying attention to my mom. After a couple of weeks, she started to react to my attention, not consciously, but her behavior began to change, little by little. One afternoon while I was laying on the couch reading a book, my mother came in and sat down on the chair at the far end of the couch, at about a 45 degree angle toward me. When she crossed her right leg over her left knee, her robe fell to the side, baring half her thigh. I kept glancing up at her lovely, exposed leg and I believe she finally noticed that I hadn't turned a page for a long time. She didn't say anything, but she began to dangle her slipper on her right toe. Her calf tensing and relaxing with each dip of her foot, and the muscle at the bottom of her thigh kept bulging and relaxing as well.

It was just a leg, but I could feel my cock begin to stir. Maybe it was partly because I was sure she knew I was transfixed by her legs. I stood up and started to leave, feeling the need to escape before a full-fledged boner prevented movement completely. As I passed my mother's chair, her voice pulled me back.

"Jay?"

I turned, "Yes, Mother?"

"Be a dear, and refill my wine for me, will you?" She turned to get her glass, her robe parting on both of her legs. As she lifted her glass toward me, holding it over her partly bared legs, she smiled. As she reached forward to pass the glass to me her robe gapped over her chest bringing my attention to the swell of her breasts. Her smile widened. I grasped the glass and beat a retreat to the dining room.

"There's an open bottle in the kitchen, dear."

"Ok, Mother."

After refilling my mother's glass I waited for my boner to subside. When I returned, she had adjusted her robe to cover her left leg but her right thigh was still exposed, and the gap between her breasts was open lower down, clearly exposing the inside swell of both breasts as she leaned forward to take her glass of wine.

"Stay with me while I drink my wine. I hate drinking alone," she said, as she set her glass down on the table.

As I sat down she began to read again, slowly dipping her foot. Her head was turned slightly away from me, allowing me to gaze freely at her exposed leg, which I did. She had very nice legs. I stared at them intently, a strange enjoyment spreading through me as I dragged my eyes back and forth along their length, automatically moving up and down with the movement of her foot. On one swing up her legs, I noticed that the left side of her robe had gapped forward, providing an intriguing glimpse of the profile of her breast. As her foot came up, it gapped further, and I thought I could see the nipple briefly appear.

"Could you pass me my glass, dear?"

I froze as I realized she had turned toward me, catching me looking into her robe. But she didn't seem angry. I woodenly picked up her glass and turned to hand it back to her. She reached out with her left hand, not her right, an action which forced her robe open sufficiently for me to see her entire tit hang out while she took the glass. She appeared to fumble it a bit, prolonging my view of her bare breast suspended in the air between us, then falling against her chest as she sat back with her wine.

The twisting motion of her torso had widened the gap in her robe wider but she didn't seem to notice as she continued reading, and I resumed ogling her legs and trying to see her breast. Her legs were bared more too as the robe had pulled apart there as well.

After a few minutes, she said, "Wine, honey," and held out her right hand.

I placed the glass in her hand, waited while took a sip, and retrieved it from her outstretched hand when she was done, setting it back on the table. When I turned back to her, I noticed that the robe had pulled apart even more, opening the entire side of her breast to my gaze. The robe was open down to her navel, which was just visible. As I noticed this, she uncrossed her legs and raised her left knee, pulling her foot back to rest at the edge of the chair cushion. Her robe dropped off completely, baring her left thigh to my grateful eyes. After a moment, Mother turned to me. I didn't avert my eyes, and she didn't seem to mind.

"You've been in college for a few years now, and traveling. You're probably up on the latest fashions, aren't you, dear?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mother," I replied, absently, still concentrating on her legs.

"Nonsense. You've been out and about, you've seen what people are wearing. You know what the current styles are, don't you?"

"I don't know."

"Sure you do, even if you don't know it. If I try on some of my dresses, you could let me know what you think. It would be fun. Could you do that for me?"

I much preferred that she kept reading, but I realized that I had gotten away with rather brazen behavior, and quickly agreed that, yes, that would indeed be fun, although I didn't think that at all. Nevertheless, I agreed and Mother stood up to go change into a dress. As she walked away she turned her head over her shoulder and said, "Fill my glass again, and pour some for yourself. We'll have a fashion show and drink some wine. It'll be fun," she repeated.

I wasn't sure if she was trying to convince me, or making a promise. Anyway, she walked upstairs with a bounce in her step. In the space of half an hour, my mother's depression had lifted. Maybe devoting an afternoon to a fashion show was the least I could do, although, perhaps, altruism wasn't my only motivation.

At any rate, I refilled Mom's glass and poured one for me too. That about emptied the bottle, so I fetched another. I drank a full glass of that waiting for her to come back downstairs. By the time I heard her coming, my mind was full of sexy images of what she's be wearing, from short black dresses slit up the side to see through negligees. Yeah, right.

She glided gracefully down the stairs, partly obscured by the railing, and came into full view as she reached the bottom three steps which turned toward the living room. She was wearing an elegant, full length green gown which nicely offset her eyes. She had put her hair up and done her makeup. She was gorgeous, but she wasn't nearly as revealing as she had been in her plaid robe. I could feel a distinct droop below my belt.

"What do you think, darling?" she asked as she entered the room and did a slow turn around to her left as she crossed the floor toward me.

"Magnificent, Mom," I said, "You look stunning."

"Thank you, dear. It is a wonderful dress," she said, deflecting my flattery to her clothes.

I vouchsafed my agreement, not entirely facetiously, as I noticed how low the gown was cut in the back despite the front covering up to her neck.

"Turn around again, Mom, but slowly so I can see." She did, more than once, seeming to revel in the feel of the gown and the admiration of an audience, however small, once again.

"It really is marvelous, Mother, truly elegant."

"It is, isn't it?" Her eyes shone. "I've set out a bunch of others. Oh, this is going to be so much fun, Jay."

Leaning down, she picked up her glass and downed most of it is a single gulp, then turned and swept away to the stairs.

"I won't be long, dear, I've already got the next one picked out."

True to her word, she was back in less than fifteen minutes in another gown. The hem was still below her knees and her back was covered more but the neckline was lower, although not exactly revealing. I wondered how soon I could get her back into her plain old robe.

"What do you think of this one? Cat got your tongue?"

"Well ...," I began.

"You're right. It's not really me, is it?

"Uh, no Mom, I don't think it's quite you. I'm not sure why, it just doesn't seem quite right."

"I know what you mean. Oh, you're so helpful, Jay. You've grown up so much. I do need someone to be honest with me, like your father used to be. Wait here, I'll be right back."

And off she went, too excited to stop for a sip of wine. But I wasn't, as I drained another glass.

Five minutes later, she was back, swinging around in a pirouette as soon as she entered the room. This time she was wearing a very chic, white dress cut just above her knees but it was low in both front and back, and her arms were bare. Her hair was shaken out, falling to her shoulders. She really did look stunning.

She walked straight to me and stopped, resting one hand on a cocked hip, "Well ...?"

"Gorgeous, Mom, you're beautiful. That is a real keeper."

"It feels great, too. Almost sporty." She leaned forward with her hands at her sides, grasping the dress. "But I think it should be a little shorter, don't you think?" She raised the hem about two inches as she leaned further forward to look, giving me a great view of her cleavage.

"Maybe even a bit higher," I said, still fixated on her boobs and not looking at her legs at all.

"Yes, I think you're right. I've got something like that upstairs I used to wear to some of our more fun parties," and she started to turn away.

"Wait, Mom, you're forgetting about your wine," I said reaching over to pick up her refilled glass.

"Oh, yes. Thanks." She stooped down to take the glass but she didn't straighten up to drink it. Instead, she sipped the wine while remaining stooped over, tilting her head back. She continued taking small sips until half the glass was gone. Her breasts hung forward, crowding the V in her neck for the whole time, well over a minute, during which my eyes stayed glued on her delicious swells. I'm not sure if she was rewarding me or just trying to avoid spilling any on her white dress.

Then she passed the glass back to me, "Well, I must be off for the next number. Put some nice music on." And she was gone again.

I was still trying to figure out what kind of music to play when I heard her step softly into the room behind me. The high heels had been replaced by a pair of very low navy blue pumps that matched the color of her dress. And what a dress! It was even lower in the front, dipping down to her tummy, being held together by a pair of gold chains, one just above her breasts and another just below. The hem was a hair lower than mid-thigh. As I stood there with my mouth open she turned very slowly in front of me, and then again. The dress was cut so low in the back that I could see the swell of her buttocks. I was speechless!

"I can see you like this one, don't you, dear?"

I nodded, slowly, openly looking her up and down. I couldn't help it.

"Oh, your father used to love the look on people's faces when we arrived and he took off my coat. He loved dancing with me in this dress, and he wouldn't let anyone else have a dance. He said it was only for us."

"Well, I can see why he wanted to keep that one in the family, Mom," I said, finally regaining some composure.

"Yes, isn't it just wicked," her eyes glinted above a mischievous grin that I'd never seen before. "Oh, where is that song?" She started sorting through the CDs, grabbed one and replaced the one I had put on. "Come dance with me, Jay," she cried, as a slow number drifted out from the speakers.

"Mom, I can't dance," I objected as she grasped my hands and pulled me to the middle of the room. She dropped my hands, undulated sexily in front of me, then held her hands out.

"Come, on sweetie, dance with your Mother."

I stepped toward her and she came right into me, throwing her arms around my neck, nestling her head into my shoulder. She moved to the music, burrowing her head into my shoulder, facing away, her breasts pressing against me. As she pulled in tighter I could feel her tummy and pelvis slowly twist against me. We moved like this for several minutes. When the song ended, she kept swaying against me until the next one started.

She turned her head inward and mumbled, "It's been so long. Oh, I've missed this so much."

Mother looked up and kissed me on the side of my chin, on the corner of my mouth, before nestling in again, pressing harder this time. I reacted, my cock swelling against her. I couldn't hide it dancing like this, but I didn't want to stop. I couldn't think of anything but how hot she was. There wasn't anything I could do so I just got harder.

Mom danced slowly and stayed close, swaying against me between songs. By the third dance, she was simply swaying all the time, her feet no longer moving. My cock was as hard and fragile as peanut brittle. My hands had slipped down from her shoulders to hold her against me, pressing into her bare back just above her hips. From time to time, I moved them up and down her skin, sliding the tips of my fingers along her sides to the swell of her hips.

As the fourth song started, she whispered, "I'd better go and try on the next outfit."

"No more, Mom," I protested, "this one's the best anyway."

"But you haven't seen the others, yet. I have lots more."

"Not today, Mom. Wear this one longer," I wheedled, desperate to have her continue.

"Will you promise to let me show you the rest another time?"

"Absolutely, Mom. I promise."

"Will you dance with me for the whole CD?"

"Ah, Mom," I protested, but feebly.

"It's fashion show or dancing. Your choice."

"OK."

She broke away from me. "Start the CD over. You promised to dance to the whole thing."

She walked over to her wine glass, picked it up and drained it. I started the CD over as she filled her glass again. When she turned back to me, she kicked off her shoes, took another big drink of wine, then walked to the window and pulled the curtains closed. She walked slowly toward me, her arms raised up ready to dance, "Come on, honey."

Her arms circled around me as she pulled herself in tight, breasts pressing lightly and nipples poking into my chest, and sweetest of all, her tummy brushing against my hardon. Mother pulled my hands around her waist and down to the swell of her hips, then further around until they rested at the top of her buttocks.

"Let's dance like it's the end of the evening," she whispered, then turned her face into my chest and started swaying against me.

I held her like that through the first two songs. On the third, I started to push against her with subtle presses. By the fourth song, I let my hands stray onto her buttocks and pulled her gently to me as I pushed against her.

At the end of the fifth song, we paused the CD and broke to refill our glasses. I'm not sure about Mom, but I was definitely getting light headed. When we started again, she came right to me and pressed in tight. I moved my hands down over the swell of her cheeks and pulled her in, slowly grinding her against me. The sixth song was a long one. Not thinking, I nibbled on her shoulder and kissed the hollow of her neck but she didn't object or protest in any way.

I took this as tacit permission to take further license with her. I rocked my cock from side to side, even rubbing it up and down a little against her mound, and she didn't shy away. I couldn't believe I was doing this, much less getting away with it!

For the seventh song, we stood in the middle of the room, gently rubbing ourselves against each other. We continued this through the break. I sucked on the hollow of her neck while she clutched my shoulders, lifted one foot and slid it around to rub the back of my leg. I dropped my hand down behind her thigh and lifted her leg higher onto mine, then mashed my cock unexpectedly into her pelvic bone, yanking a response from deep within her throat.

"Ohhhhhh," she moaned.

I rubbed harder, peppering her with little fuck movements. Our breathing was now ragged and we weren't really dancing, we were just humping each other through our clothes and moaning in unison.

Suddenly Mother went limp in my arms. I continued thrusting against her jerky pelvis as she shuddered her climax onto my swollen member, causing me to start spurting in my pants. "Oh, Mom, mom, mom," I cried softly into her neck.

Gradually our movements subsided and her leg fell down to the floor, the dress falling back into place. She started to sway in a dance and I matched her movements. When the next song started, Mom pulled away and said, "I don't think I can finish the whole CD, sweetie. You win." And she stepped away to the couch, turning and sitting down. She reached for her wine glass, but it was empty and so was the bottle.

She looked beautiful, hair disheveled and face flushed, dress high on her thighs and legs stretched out with one crossed over the other.

She stood up. "I think I'll go upstairs and have a little nap," and she began to walk past me.

I reached out and stopped her. "We can finish the CD another time if you like, Mom."

"Oh, that's sweet, Jay. That's very fair of you. You're a gentleman."

"And I'd like to see your other dresses, too. And any other clothes you'd like to model."

"That's precious. I'd love to show them to you."

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Can you give me a goodnight kiss. Like you used to when I was little."

"But I'm only going for an afternoon nap."

"Still ..."

"OK." And she turned her face up to give me a peck.

"No, a real kiss. I'm grown up now."

I turned my face into hers. She didn't turn away, she just waited with her lips partly open and her eyes closed. I pressed my mouth down onto hers, folded my arms around her, and kissed her. It was a long kiss. When it was finished, I immediately started another, and then another. She put her arm up around my neck. On the fourth kiss, I slipped my tongue gently into her mouth. It was the longest kiss yet but when it ended she pulled away and whispered, "I've got to go, got to go," and she was gone.

Mom didn't come down to make supper so I put together a meal and took a tray up to Father. He was working on his memoirs, and didn't want company. I left and knocked softly on the door to my Mother's room. There was no answer. I pushed the door open, calling softly, "Mom, mom?"

She didn't respond. She was laying face down on the top of her bed, her navy blue dress still on, looking a little rumpled and sitting high up on the backs of her legs. Her legs were open, letting me see the bottom of her panty clad pussy.

"Mom," again softly, "Mom?" She stirred. "Do you want some dinner? I've made some stew."

"Oh, hi sweetie." She didn't move to close her legs, or pull her dress down. "In a few minutes."

She stretched, tensing the muscles in her back and legs, which moved even further apart. "Come and lie down with me for a minute."

I stretched out beside her. She smiled and said, "Rub my back for me, baby."

I started to stroke my fingers along her spine between her shoulders, tracing down her bare back to the top of her buttocks.

"Mmmmm, that's lovely. Do that for a while, will you, sweetie?"

I dragged my fingers up and down her back, over to the sides, running along the edge of her dress at the sides of her rib cage, feeling the swell at the side of her breasts, over and over again. After some time, she whispered, "Do my shoulders too."

"They're covered by your dress."

"Oh." She pushed herself up on her arms, fumbled with the chains holding the front together, and fell back to the bed. "Push the dress off my shoulders, sweetheart."

I tried, but they would only go a little way down her arms, and then slipped back. She pushed herself up again, lifting her upper body off the bed, and let the dress fall down her arms, lifting her hands out, and then collapsed again onto the bed. But not before I had a clear view of her beautiful tits hanging down, swaying gently as she worked her hands out of the dress, nipples poking stiffly out.

"There you go."

I massaged her shoulders. After a bit, I got up on my knees so I could reach better, kneading her entire back, pushing her firmly into the bed. Then I moved behind her, straddling her left leg and placing my right knee in between her legs, close to her crotch. Eventually, I pressed my knee firmly against her ass, rubbing it against the bottom of her pussy as I pulled her back towards me. When I brought my hands down her back I pulled on her dress, dragging it up and over her ass, exposing her panty covered cheeks. I moved my hands from her shoulders to the top of her ass, then slid them over the panties covering her cheeks, kneading them as I pushed my knee into her. Soon, I was rocking my knee up in a circular motion when I massaged her cheeks. Mother had appeared to be dozing but when I became this brazen she stirred, as if waking, and I quickly pulled my knee back.

"We better go downstairs and have dinner." She pulled herself up, kneeling on the bed, holding the dress to her bosom. She turned, walking on her knees to the edge, her hair swinging across her shoulders. "Can you get my robe for me, sweetie?"

"Don't you want a nightie?" I asked.

"No, I'll pick something out after dinner. Or, we could do a fashion show after we eat. I have such beautiful lingerie. Would you let me show you some?"

"Sure, Mom."

"Oh, you're so sweet. Let's hurry up and eat."

I brought her robe over to her and stood, holding it up for her to slip her arms into it. She just looked at me, waiting.

"Oh, uh, I can look away if you want, Mom," I said sheepishly, as if I didn't know what I'd been waiting for.

"No, no," she shrugged, "It's no big deal." She stood up, still holding the dress against her breasts, "It's not like you're a stranger."

As she slipped her right hand into the proffered sleeve the upper part of her dress fell away, exposing her breasts. I swung the robe around her back as she pushed her hand into the sleeve, and held it there while she twisted her left hand back into the other sleeve. Her gorgeous tits arched up, never escaping my gaze.

When she got her left arm through the sleeve, she just stood there with her robe hanging open. Finally, she said, "If you going to be such a gentleman, then you have to do it all." When I stood there, dumbly, she said, "Well, push my dress down and belt me up, silly."

I reached into her robe, placed my hands on her bare hips above her dress, and pushed it down, over her hips and down her legs to her feet. When I stood up, I could see that I had pulled the straps of her panties down over her hips as well, so they went out straight sideways instead of up over her hips. The effect was to leave a thin band stretched very low across the top of her pussy mound. Mother just stood there as I stared at her tummy.

"You better fix my panties, and belt me up so we can go eat."

I pulled her straps up over her hips, closed her robe and tightened the belt around her narrow waist. As I finished, she stretched up and kissed me on the lips. "Thanks, tiger," she said, and turned away. I followed her downstairs as best I could with my cock bulging against my jeans.

Dinner involved reheated stew and buttered buns. It was hard for me to concentrate because the belt on Mom's robe had loosened and I was continually treated to tantalizing glimpses of her tits. She seemed oblivious to her display or the effect it was having on me. She chatted gaily away, about what, I have no recollection. She was similarly unaware that her loose robe also exposed a lot of her legs. It was often hard for me to choose what to look at. I'm sure my gaze was moving back and forth, as if watching a tennis match.

As we finished our meal, Mom suddenly announced, "I don't feel like a fashion show, now. Let's go to a movie instead."

What? A movie? I was dying to see her show off her lingerie. A movie? Out in public, with no opportunity to ogle her? No way.

But she was off upstairs, turning to yell back, "I'll be right back. I'll tell your father we're going out."

When she came down, she had on a knee length coat. "Come on, Jay, let's go. Did you pick a movie?"

We got in a car and went to the large theatre complex near our house. Mom picked a chick type movie that was almost empty, having been there for some time, I guess, or else it was just plain bad. She walked right up to the top and sat in the middle of the back row, away from the dozen or so couples strewn throughout the theatre. At least, I wouldn't be seen out with my Mother at a chick flick.

Mom ate popcorn soaked in butter and drank coke through the previews and the first part of the movie. Then she slouched down in her seat and said, "Come on sweetie, you have to at least act like my date. I don't want to be the only woman in here without an arm around her."

I shifted closer and put my arm around her shoulder.

"Can you undo my coat for me? I've got butter on my hands."

I dutifully started to undo the buttons on my Mother's coat. As the buttons came undone, and in flashes of bright parts in the movie, I could see that Mom had decided to give me a lingerie show after all. She was dressed in a negligee. It was navy blue like the dress she'd worn earlier, and like that dress, it was parted all down the front, held together not by chains but lace straps.

"Open it right up for me, sweetie, I'm a little warm."

Not sure exactly what she meant, I continued to undo all the buttons on her coat. Then I just looked at her. She paid me no mind, fixated on the big screen. I tentatively reached in and laid my left hand flat on her tummy, outside the nightie, below her breasts. Mom, forgetting the butter on her hands, pushed the coat closed, hiding my hand. I began moving my hand in a circular path, slowly widening until I was brushing my fingers very low on her tummy. There was no objection from Mom; she just kept watching the movie.

I kissed her hair and the side of her face as I sat facing her. When my hand passed over her lower belly again I slowed its passage and let my fingers trail near the top of her mound. Again, there was no objection, so when I passed under her breasts, I rubbed my hands across their underside. Soon, I was regularly swirling my hand around her torso, almost stopping on her mound, then up and lifting her tits as I rubbed my hands under them, fleetingly cupping each one as I went by.

On one pass over her lower tummy, my hand stopped on her mound, seemingly of its own will. When I realized what I'd done, I readied myself to yank it back at the slightest protest, but there was none. Keeping it still for a while, I slowly started to move up past her navel and then to the bottom of her tits. This time, I cupped her tit in my hand and gently squeezed it, then moved on and repeated the action with the next one. Mom didn't react at all.

Moving down, I again stopped on her mound. This time, I pressed my hand into her, barely exerting any pressure, again ready to retreat at the slightest objection. I pulsed my hand as if I was squeezing a fragile, thin skinned plum. I should have moved on but I couldn't bring myself to let go. I kept my hand there, scared that I was going to ruin everything but unable pull away. My arm tingled with a strange electricity.

Finally, I did pull away, slipping my hand straight up to grasp Mother's left tit. This time, as I cupped and squeezed, I let my fingers and thumb slide off until they pinched her nipple between the material of her nightie. I kept her nipple there, as unable to let go as when my hand had been stuck on her mound. And Mom ignored me. I rolled her nipple between my fingers, and tugged on it. When I moved over to the other tit, I went straight to her nipple. I played with that nipple even longer.

It seemed that I could do what I wanted to, and Mom would just pretend nothing was happening. An interesting game. I decided to test its boundaries. Instead of running my hand down to her pussy, I pulled on one of the lace bows keeping the negligee closed across her breasts. It slipped easily apart, opening to expose the swell between her tits. Mom kept staring intently at the screen.

I grasped the next lace strap, under the weight of her breasts, and pulled that too. It parted even easier than the first and Mom's tits were fully exposed for my eyes to feast upon. I just stared. Mother ignored me, then laughed at something on the screen, and arched her back, pushing her tits up and stretching the nipples taut. I quickly moved my hands down to the final three laces and pulled them all apart, pushing the negligee to the side and exposing the entire front of Mom's body. She continued to watch the movie as if nothing improper was going on.

Biting the bullet, I slowly slipped my hand up her breastbone between her tits, being careful not to touch her bare tits directly, or come in contact with her naked nipple. Nothing. I dragged the tips of my fingers down again, and retraced the same path back up. Then I played my fingers sideways along the upper swell of her breasts, back and forth for several minutes, slowly working my way lower toward her nipples. No reaction. Going for the gusto, I strummed my fingers over her nipples, which were sticking straight up more than half an inch high, like hard little cocks. I could hear her breath catch, but there was no other acknowledgement of my activity.

I pulled her closer to me in my arm, and grasped her tit firmly in my other hand, squeezing her nipple between thumb and forefinger and tugging it out, rolling it between as I did so. Then I closed my hand over her entire tit, squeezed it, and repeated the nipple tugging and squeezing several times in quick succession. She turned her head closer to me and whispered, "I hope you don't mind that I picked such a long chick flick."

"No, Mom, I don't mind," I whispered back as I kissed the top of her head. I took her comment as permission and a hint, so I slowed down and began to stroke her more gently, brushing my hands over her tits, then down over her tummy, and eventually over her panties. She offered no objection to that either. Soon I had pried my hand in between her legs and was sliding it up and down, rubbing her pussy. When the male member of the couple closest to us suddenly stood up, Mother quickly grabbed the sides of her coat and pulled it closed. As he started walking down the stairs away from us, she let it fall to her sides again. I quickly pushed my hand between her legs and began rubbing her vigorously, as if trying to make up for lost rubs. She grasped my wrist, saying nothing, but slowing my hand down.

I pulled my hand up and played with her tits again. This time, when I pushed my hand down I slipped it under her panties and pushed my fingers down to her bare pussy. She grasped my hand again, and pulled it up until my fingers were outside her panties. I slid my hand over her pussy, outside her panties, and cupped her mound firmly. No reaction. A boundary had been set.

I pressed my finger into the crevice between her lips, still outside her panties, and rocked it side to side, working it deeper into the crevice before sliding it gently up and down. Her breathing quickened. I continued this for awhile and when the man returned, Mother surprisly didn't try to cover up but let me play with her cunt the whole time he made his way to his seat despite the way he looked at us. I thought she might have had her eyes closed but she didn't.

As I cupped her pussy, I pressed my fingers into her crevice and my palm against the top of her mound. I massaged her like this, pulsing my hand open and closed. When she started reacting with deeper breaths and a very quiet, mewling sound, I pulled her head closer and turned her face into my shoulder. Her hips were bucking up against my palm, fucking it and the fingers digging into her below. Suddenly, I felt her upper body go slack, as it had earlier in the afternoon, but her pelvis kept jerking against my hand, slowly subsiding until she was still. I turned her head up a little and kissed her for several minutes without any tongue play. Then she pulled away, closed her coat and started to do the buttons up.

"Let's go home, Jay. I'm too tired to finish the movie."

And off me went. Mom showing no awareness of her recent orgasm, and me acutely aware that I desperately needed one.

On the way home, Mom cuddled right up to me. But when I tried to slip my hand under her coat, between her legs, she pulled my arm up and around her shoulders. We drove all the way home like that. As we walked to the house, Mom kept pressed against me but she pulled away when we reached the light in the porch. When we entered, she looked around and called Dad's name. When there was no answer, she turned back to me and lifted her face up, "Give me a kiss goodnight, Jay."

I guess the night was over. I gave her a quick kiss on her lips. She looked both disappointed and concerned. "Are you upset?", she asked.

"I can't give you a proper kiss when you're dressed in an overcoat."

"Oh," she replied. She dropped her hands to her sides, lifted herself toward me on the balls of her feet, pushed her breasts up, and waited. I began to unbutton her coat. When the last button was undone, I spread the coat open and slipped it off her shoulders and down her arms, letting it fall to the floor.

She stood there in her nightie which hadn't been refastened, the silky material hanging off her breasts, held fast only by her stiff nipples. I took her in my arms and kissed her, a long, deep, searing kiss. When we broke, she tried to turn away but I grasped her head and pulled her back for another long kiss. When she tried to break away at the end of that one, I said, "No, Mom. At the end of the night you get to neck with your date," and I pulled her from the hallway into the living room, toward the couch at the far end. When we reached the couch, she stopped me.

"I can't lie down with you while we neck," she said.

"But you did this afternoon," I complained.

"We weren't necking then. You were rubbing my back."

"But, Mom ..."

"No buts. Everything has rules. You have to learn to play by them."

Right. Her rules. Lots of leeway when she wants to get off, but I'm left hanging. Nevertheless, I knew had no choice but to play along if I wanted to keep feeling her up. If I confronted her, I knew it would be game over. I had to find a way to win within her rules, or somehow, get her to change them.

I pulled her to me and kissed her, standing up. I immediately slipped my tongue in and probed her mouth as my hand slid up her side to fondle her tits. I pressed my knee between her legs and started to rub it against her. Adolescent in my urgency, she nonetheless patiently allowed it, reaching up to put both arms around my neck. I slowed down, kissing her more gently. When we broke, she said, "Only for a few more minutes. Then I have to go up and say goodnight to your father."

This again increased my urgency. When we started to kiss again, I pushed my cock into her and jabbed my tongue into her mouth. She relaxed her pelvis, spreading her thighs, as if bequeathing a consolation prize. I rocked myself in her while increasing the intensity of our kiss. Dropping my hands to her ass, I pulled her against my hardon. But when I started to dry hump her, she broke away. "Ok, necking time's over." And off she went.

I'd been too desperate. I'd have to make a plan and learn to act with discipline if I was going to play with my Mother and win. I had to make sure she never saw us as being on opposite sides. Somehow, we had to be on the same team. If I wanted to get into her pants, I had to learn to play smarter.​